Thinking Fourth Dimensionally
by Deeble
Summary: Hermione hits on an efficient way to do her mountain of homework in third year. Too bad it's illegal.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I'm not JKR. I am, however, grateful that she lets us muck about in her Potterverse as long as we're not trying to cash in.

A/N: Thank you to Moaning Myrtle, the alpha beta!

**Chapter 1**

Hermione dragged herself and her books toward Gryffindor Tower and wished blearily that she had more time. She couldn't help but see the humor in that, of course -- she had _plenty_ of time, hours literally at her fingertips, for all the good it did her.

The remarkable necklace bounced slightly against her chest as she walked (alone, since Harry and the Prat had decided to ignore two years of friendship over a stupid probably-not-dead-anyway rat). She shook her head to remove irritating thoughts of thoughtless boys and returned to her dilemma: more homework than any other student in the school. Professor McGonagall gave her the Time-Turner that made possible a schedule with 10 classes but insisted that time be turned for those classes and nothing else.

"Do please be careful," the deputy headmistress had added, her expression equal parts stern and pleased. "You are the first third-year in a generation to be allowed this benefit. I trust you will not abuse it."

"I won't let you down, Professor," Hermione answered swiftly.

But she hadn't any idea how exhausting this would be. At some point in recent weeks she began to think less about the importance of not letting Professor McGonagall down and more about the importance of not ending up in the infirmary. Or St. Mungo's, forever muttering about 12 inches on the use of fluxweed and when to harvest it. She giggled, then clapped her hand over her mouth. Wasn't laughing at one's own jokes the first sign of insanity?

"Or was that talking to oneself?" she asked aloud, and then giggled again.

That's it, she thought, this is the limit. She had four papers due this week -- this week! Never before had she left papers to the last minute like this -- not to mention three tests looming and five chapters in _Moste Potente Potions_ that she could not put off reading any longer. The assignments had been piling up even before she spent all weekend finishing the research for Buckbeak's defense (all by _herself_, naturally), and now she was well and truly stuck. Staying up late would do no good this time; she only got a few hours' sleep last night.

She was strongly tempted to settle herself in her dorm room and flip the Time-Turner back an hour. She felt only slightly guilty that it wasn't her conscience stopping her, it was the thought that Lavender or Parvati might walk in and put two and two together, having just seen her eating dinner at the end of the Gryffindor table with a book on magical creatures propped up against the pumpkin juice pitcher. (They might seem silly but she doubted they were as clueless as those boys she had thought were her friends. True, the Prat had asked her how she was taking so many classes at once, but honestly! How else did he think it was possible?)

In any case, she didn't care to have multiple versions of Hermione Granger strewn about Hogwarts; she'd want to stick together so she could keep an eye on herself.

The empty Charms classroom came into view just as the idea took hold.

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"All right," Hermione said, sitting at one of the desks after casting the strongest locking spell she knew on the door and a decent silencing spell on the room. "I can do a couple hours' worth of homework here before curfew, then go back and work on another assignment while my first self is reading for Potions. But what would happen when the time is up for both of us? First self would turn into second self and go backwards . . . oh that's asking for trouble. No, I think I'd better leave more time in between. So perhaps I could come back here tomorrow after dinner and join myself tonight? I'm fairly sure these basic Time-Turner models have at least a month in them either way. Right, that would probably work."

"It would definitely work," said her voice from 10 feet away.

Hermione managed to hide her shock at unexpectedly seeing herself sitting demurely at another desk.

"Hey, shouldn't I be the one going back?" she asked her doppelganger with a touch of asperity. "This was my idea."

"I _am_ you," the other Hermione answered, grinning. "So it was my idea too."

"Fine," original Hermione conceded. "Well, we're wasting time that could be used on homework."

"I already took care of _Moste Potente Potions_ -- or, rather, you will, so get to it," said the other girl, taking a quill out of her bookbag. "I'll handle Arithmancy."

"Bossy," muttered Hermione, but she was pleased that a plan conjured up in desperation had brought her help.

At that moment two more Hermiones popped into the room, and she felt a bit less sanguine.

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"What are you doing here?" she asked sharply after a long moment of silence. "Two of me is enough, thanks."

"You think so today, but by Tuesday you'll change your mind," said one of the newcomers.

"After all, you have a ton of homework this week," the other agreed.

"I suppose," Hermione said doubtfully. "How--"

But her question was interrupted by a pop, quickly followed by two more.

"Oh for the love of Merlin," she exclaimed, putting her head in her hands. "What have I gotten myself into? Should I expect any more of me?"

_Pop._

"I can't stand it," she said flatly, keeping her face covered.

"Sorry," said the seventh future Hermione. "I think I'm it. I promised myself that this would be the last time."

"Yes, well," said Hermione, who was beginning to wish she had just gone to bed, "why don't you lot each cast another locking spell on the door for good measure while I make a schedule so I can complete the circuit when I'm you."

She pulled out a piece of parchment and recorded when they had all left to join her at (give or take a few minutes) 6:30 p.m. on Sunday. They hadn't traveled far -- the final one came from the following Sunday.

"With the powers invested in me as the original Hermione, I hereby decree that you will all be known by the day of the week from whence you came," she intoned, provoking several groans.

"That's progressively less amusing the more times you hear it," Saturday Hermione stage-whispered to Sunday.

"I know it might seem that we have all the time in the world, but could we perhaps take care of our raison d'etre?" shot back Monday Hermione, who felt the need to defend her 24-hour-ago self, having been her recently.

"Am I really that annoying?" muttered Friday Hermione. "I spent a summer in France, how _impressive_."

"Stop arguing with -- erm -- you!" Hermione jumped in, feeling a headache coming on. "Please, just . . . pick a subject. There's eight of us and eight assignments, so write down which you'll take next to your date on this parchment and get on with it."

"Wait a minute -- what do you take you for?" said Wednesday Hermione, grinning at her own joke. "All those assignments are due this week, which would mean the later versions of us would have to skive off the first time around. If I know me, and I do, I wouldn't dream of going to class with unfinished homework even if it _would_ work out in the end."

"That's right!" Hermione said accusingly to Thursday through Sunday. "You've clearly finished these assignments already, so what are you doing here?"

"This is such a convenient time to work," Saturday said sheepishly. "I wanted to get a head start on next week."

"Well, we've already wasted 10 minutes," Hermione sighed, picking up her Potions book. "Just write down whatever you personally will handle so I know which day to do them."

Two hours later she finished the final chapter for Potions, stretched in her seat and looked around the room at seven bushy-haired girls studiously writing and reading. She felt better. The panic rising earlier as the situation took on shades of the Sorcerer's Apprentice had been replaced with relief: Her homework problem was now well in hand and she could sleep soundly tonight. It was a bit embarrassing to realize how easily she could bicker with herself, but at least she could trust these slightly older Hermiones to be excellent study partners.

Good plan, she thought with a smile.

Three seconds later, a lock clicked, the classroom door flew open with a crash and she stared, horrified, at Professor Snape.


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I'm not JKR. I am, however, grateful that she lets us muck about in her Potterverse as long as we're not trying to cash in.

A/N: Thank you to Moaning Myrtle, the alpha beta!

Chapter 2 

In two years and change at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hermione had seen the Potions master irritated -- usually when she raised her hand in his class; angry -- generally at Neville; and smug about someone else's discomfort -- Harry's, most often. She had never seen him shocked into silence.

His mouth fell open as he took in a classful of identical Gryffindors. He walked in, shut the door, and strode to the front of the room, stopping in front of Professor Flitwick's desk. He stared at the group for a moment longer -- probably trying to decide whether detention for the rest of the year is sufficient punishment, Hermione thought hollowly.

"Well, Miss Grangers," he said finally, raising one coal-black eyebrow. "Would you care to explain the meaning of this?"

"I'm so sorry, professor!" Thursday exclaimed.

"It's just that we had--" Monday cut in.

"--so much homework," Tuesday continued, "and we thought--"

"--it wouldn't harm anyone if we took a little more time to do it," Saturday said glumly.

_"Silence!"_ Professor Snape roared. He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "All your teachers are aware of your highly restricted . . . piece of jewelry. I argued against it but was overruled."

He opened his eyes and grimaced. "Clearly," he added unnecessarily. "But even I, willing to believe the worst of you, would never have _conceived_ that you would so cavalierly toy with the continuum of time" -- a pause, a deep breath -- "for HOMEWORK!"

Hermione, and all the older versions of her, cringed.

"When are you from?" he asked icily.

"I'm real-time," Hermione answered, eyes downcast. "They're from Monday through Sunday. I only got the idea this evening, and they all appeared before I had a chance to think about it. In fact," she added with a start, "I have no idea how I collected so many of me if our study time was bound to end with you finding us. You'd think I would have stopped after the first attempt."

"This never happened before," Saturday said.

This piqued Hermione's curiosity, deep in trouble though she was. "Why did you come here?" she asked Professor Snape. _"Sir,"_ she amended quickly.

"I hardly think you are in a position to question me," he snarled, "any of you. But if you must know, I could feel the power of the locking spell from an adjacent hallway. It seemed reasonable that Black" -- a pause for a sneer -- "was behind the door, as no mere student could have managed that."

"I suppose the combined effort of eight students might have done the trick, sir," Hermione muttered, realizing that Sunday must have put them over the top.

"Eight of _you_, perhaps," he said waspishly.

Hermione, too upset with herselves to notice the compliment clothed in wolf's clothing, replied: "Shall I go down to the dungeons immediately for detention? Or perhaps you want us all to go?"

Professor Snape rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, I can't wait to explain _this_ to any students we might pass by. You" -- he gestured toward Hermione -- "will go to your room immediately. Your doubles will go to their rooms immediately. I think I've had quite enough of your company for the evening."

Stunned to have escaped so easily, Hermione stuttered out a "yes sir" and rushed to gather up her things.

"Oh, and Miss Grangers?" he added, turning his head back toward them as he put his hand on the doorknob. "That will be -- let's see -- one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, _eight_ hundred points from Gryffindor."

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Losing more points in a single evening than she had earned in her entire career at Hogwarts thus far meant Hermione did not sleep well after all. Her earlier homework troubles paled to this. How could she face her classmates tomorrow? Gryffindor had only 830 points when she left the Great Hall after dinner. Sometime after midnight it occurred to her that the other miscreants would be tossing and turning as well, one to seven days in the future, which made her feel momentarily better for reasons she didn't care to closely examine. Then the worst thought of all hit her.

She would have to relive this evening seven times.

"I wish that stupid Time-Turner could take me back to the beginning of the school year," she mumbled into her pillow, "so I could tell myself off for even thinking that 10 classes in one year was a good idea."


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I'm not JKR. I am, however, grateful that she lets us muck about in her Potterverse as long as we're not trying to cash in.

A/N: Thank you to Moaning Myrtle, the alpha beta! One chapter to go.

Chapter 3 

Hermione awoke to the sound of the irritating fortune-telling alarm clock Lavender bought in Hogsmeade last trip, which this morning was screeching: "I predict untold horrors for you today if you do not get up right now!" (_I predict untold horrors if I _do_ get up_, Hermione thought grumpily.)

She did not look at Lavender or Parvati as she stumbled into the bathroom. She did not look at herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth more forcefully than required. She did not look at Harry or Ron (she allowed him his name, since she was now the prat of Gryffindor) as she made her feet take her out of the common room toward breakfast, and she most decidedly did not look at the House hourglasses in the entrance hall that would show Gryffindor to be out of the running for anything but last place.

Only when the table was full of students, none saying a word about the astonishing change of fortunes, did she dare to raise her eyes. Seamus was shoveling in overlarge pieces of French toast. Parvati and Lavender had their heads together over _Unfogging the Future_. Ron was passing eggs to Harry while chatting about Quidditch -- ". . . you've got to try that move, now you have your Firebolt back," he said, punctuating the sentence by shooting a nasty look her way. She blinked. He certainly wouldn't still be on about the broom's stint with Professor McGonagall if Gryffindor was about 30 points from zero.

A quick dash to the hourglasses confirmed it: Gryffindor's rubies from the night before were still there -- or all but 20, at least. No one would take note of that, as the Houses regularly moved in the standings by as much as 50 points in either direction during a typical day. This turn of events was nearly as surprising as the Potions master bursting into the classroom last night, and the only explanation that offered itself was that Professor Dumbledore rearranged matters between then and now. Perhaps 800 points seemed too harsh to him.

As Hermione walked back to breakfast, she glanced surreptitiously at the staff table. The Headmaster was slathering jelly on a piece of toast and talking to Professor Lupin with none of the amused twinkliness he usually radiated after stepping in to save the day. Professor Snape, on the other hand, was scowling at his oatmeal. He looked up to see her staring at him and narrowed his eyes.

_Well_, she thought to herself as she quickly turned away, _he can take comfort knowing I'm going to be almost as miserable trying to keep time intact over the next week. _

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It was not an easy task. She managed to remember enough of the debacle to piece together a script of sorts, though she couldn't swear she wasn't mixing up Tuesday's role with, say, Wednesday's. As she grimly headed off to the Charms classroom after dinner Monday night, it occurred to her that she would have to pretend to be surprised to see Professor Snape, and she wondered if all her future selves would now be acting, too. Deciding it was not a question on which to dwell if she didn't want to end up very dizzy, she walked in, locked the door -- one locking spell should be safe, she figured -- and flipped her now-hated Time-Turner.

That night she took credit for the horrible idea of multiplying herself, managing to smile instead of gag.

Tuesday she watched her two-day-younger self's dawning comprehension that this Might Be a Bad Idea and thought, _you don't know the half of it._

Wednesday she played the Know-It-All.

Thursday she babbled an apology to her irate professor. She noticed that, pre-roar, his mouth was twitching as he watched the volley of conversation between herselves, but she didn't know what to make of it.

Friday she insulted herself. That felt rather good.

Saturday she said this was a "convenient time," which she realized wasn't altogether untrue, as she had finished a good bit of homework.

Sunday she said nothing after explaining her presence, thankful that her penance would soon be over. She read ahead for Potions -- she didn't want to give Professor Snape _any_ reason to take points off her in future -- and waited for the man who assigned the book to burst in.

On this occasion, her seat afforded her an unimpeded view of the side of the door, which meant she saw his face as he turned to leave, just before he swung around again to take off points. He was smiling. Not smirking, smiling.

Hermione almost didn't recognize the man. It was profoundly disturbing.

She thought she had Professor Snape pegged, once the little misunderstanding in first year had been ironed out: Evil, no; petty and mean, yes. He might appear when you least expected him, but he was always predictable once on hand.

This tantalizing clue transformed him into a puzzle, and Hermione Granger abhorred an unsolved mystery.

The internal struggle was brief. She sighed.

Tomorrow night, she was coming back.


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I'm not JKR. I am, however, grateful that she lets us muck about in her Potterverse as long as we're not trying to cash in.

A/N: Thank you to Moaning Myrtle, the alpha beta! 

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Chapter 4 

It was simple, really. After classes Monday -- a week and a day since the whole thing began -- Hermione waited until everyone had charged down to dinner, then calmly walked into the third-year boys' room and pinched Harry's invisibility cloak from the bottom of his trunk. She kept it in the inside pocket of her robes as she mechanically ate dinner. Walking briskly through empty corridors afterward, she slipped on her borrowed goods and sent herself to 8:30 p.m. on the day that would not end.

At 8:45 Professor Snape stopped dead in an intersecting hallway as if he had walked into a wall. He whipped out his ebony wand and marched by her, close enough that she could feel the wind from his long teachers' robes. After a muttered _Alohamora_ proved insufficient for the might of eight Hermiones, he whispered another incantation that she couldn't make out. _Thwack_ went the door. In he trod.

When he exited a few minutes later, she followed as stealthily as possible. She soon saw he was winding his way toward Professor McGonagall's office, not Dumbledore's, which startled her out of her attempt to puzzle out the Potions master. _I promised I would follow the rules, and now she'll never trust me again_, Hermione thought bleakly. It didn't seem to matter anymore that someone would overrule Professor Snape's point deduction; he was about to take away something far more precious.

_No_, she amended, _I did that. He's just in his favorite role as harbinger of ill tidings._

When he turned the final corner, Professor McGonagall was locking up for the night.

"Severus!" she said. "Nothing wrong, I hope?"

"Care to hear an amusing story?" he asked. "Of course you would, you live for amusing stories. Though I warn you that I will be proved right by this one."

Professor McGonagall's lips quirked upwards in that rare, prim smile of hers.

"As I am still right more often than you, I'm sure I will survive the experience."

"I saw a most amazing vision in the Charms classroom a few minutes ago," he said. "Miss Granger--"

"-- is indeed amazing; such a shame no one in Slytherin has a mind like hers," the Transfiguration professor interrupted without missing a beat, as if they had done this before.

"Yes, yes," he said, waving a hand in irritation. "But for part of this evening, Gryffindor had eight minds like hers. _Exactly_ like hers."

"What do you -- oh. Oh dear."

"Quite."

Professors McGonagall and Snape looked at each other silently. His mouth was twitching in that odd way again. As if on cue, they both burst into laughter at the same time, she leaning against her office door, he throwing his head back.

Hermione rubbed her eyes and realized she knew very little about her teachers indeed.

"I know it really isn't funny," Professor McGonagall managed to choke out after a minute, "but I can just imagine your reaction -- 'Miss Granger!' -- oh no, wait -- 'Miss Gran-_gers_! One hundred points from Gryffindor!'"

Professor Snape grinned again in that way that Hermione found completely unsettling. "Each."

"Severus!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed, the good humor wiped from her face as effectively as if he had cast a spell.

"I want Miss Granger to go to bed tonight with no thought beyond how foolish she has been," he said smoothly. "I know she meant no mischief, unlike _some_ of your charges. The fact remains, however, that she was playing a dangerous game."

"But 800 points--" 

"I haven't finished my amusing story. Surely you know that I of all people can appreciate what she has been going through this year. I do recall reminding you at the staff meeting when her schedule was approved that no child ought to be put through that again."

"Your third year was a bit stressful, if I recall," Professor McGonagall prompted as he paused.

"I smashed the damn thing against a wall after final exams, did you know?" he said conversationally. "Good thing I had mastered _Reparo_ by then. That is by way of explanation," he added, "so you won't think that I've gone soft. Listen well, because it's the only time you'll hear this from my lips: 780 points _to_ Gryffindor, and I wish I'd thought of that homework scheme when I was her age."

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A/N:

. . . And that is why Hermione unfailingly defends Snape to Harry and Ron.

I hope I didn't inadvertently borrow anyone's ideas -- well, besides Rowling's, of course --but I realize that after a year of reading fanfiction, it's certainly possible. (I was, for instance, a bit shocked to discover recently that "Head Table" is fanon . . . canon is "High Table.")

Thanks, kind reviewers -- all two of you! Twenty points to the House of your choice.


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